


Strand

by vwright



Category: Ylvis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:26:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2653604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vwright/pseuds/vwright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Started this a whlile ago then forgot about it so let's see if it's not totally lame. There's probably typos because I'm posting this in the middle of the night, I'll fix them later.</p><p>Disclaimer: The events, characters, and entities depicted in this work are fictional. Any resemblance or similarity to any actual events, entities, or persons, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Strand

**Author's Note:**

> Started this a whlile ago then forgot about it so let's see if it's not totally lame. There's probably typos because I'm posting this in the middle of the night, I'll fix them later.
> 
> Disclaimer: The events, characters, and entities depicted in this work are fictional. Any resemblance or similarity to any actual events, entities, or persons, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

"Are you sick of me yet?" Bård asked.

"Getting there," Vegard replied, eyes fixed to the screen of the laptop. He moved his fingers from their position against his lips to tap a command on the keyboard.

Bård balanced on the back legs of his chair, shoe pushing against the edge of the table. His brother was farther away, headphones covering his ears, and his eyes slipped closed as he concentrated on the same five seconds of the refrain he’d been listening to all night. It was Bård’s voice coming through the speakers; he heard his own muffled tones playing almost cartoonish into the mostly dark hotel room. It was 3 AM. They were alone. 

Bård let his chair drop down on all four legs rather suddenly, though his brother didn’t seem to notice. Bård looked to the side of the room, where the spiral staircase led downstairs. They left the light on, even though their colleagues left hours ago. Neither of them had ventured down since. There was a bowl of fruit on the bed that they took from as the hours wore on. He’d probably never want to eat another orange again. Bård thought about going down and turning the light off, for the sake of energy conservation, but decided against it. Vegard mouthed the words to the song, tapping his fingers against the side of the screen.

Bård didn’t think it wise to leave the room yet, not until he did something about the strain pulsing between them. They almost broached the subject earlier in the evening, but didn’t get very far. Bård was remorseful for his actions, aware that perhaps he had overstepped a boundary this time. People were used to them being snippy with one another before a show; it was unlikely anyone noticed anything out of the ordinary. Bård saw differently, recognized the problem presented before him. The lack of fury scared him, and pointed to perhaps his most feared reaction from his brother: disinterest. 

"Vegard?"

"Yeah, Bård," he called back. Bård tried to categorize the tone of his voice, whether it fit under distraction or indifference.

He didn’t know where he was going, or what he actually wanted to ask his brother. Verbal confirmation of his presence, willingness to answer him at least was meant to be comforting. It became clear after thirty seconds of silence that Vegard had already forgotten Bård’s question.  

He could pick up where they left off, waiting in the corridor earlier that afternoon for their choreographer to arrive. Bård chewed his nails and leaned on the wall, eyeing his brother who crossed his arms, body turned away.

"You’re mad at me," Bård said. His brother didn’t pick up that his tone was hopeful.

"It’s not that," Vegard replied, after a long twenty seconds of silence. Bård’s stomach turned at his brother’s bored expression.

"Then what is it?"

"I just hate forgiving you all the time."

They made eye contact, Bård opening his mouth for an unknown reply. Their choreographer rounded the corner and Vegard strode forward to greet her. 

"God I’m so fucking tired," Vegard announced, pulling Bård from his reverie. He rubbed and pinched the skin between his eyes, squeezing his lids shut before opening them and blinking rapidly. Even in the dim lighting, Bård could see the redness spreading in the whites of his brother’s eyes.

"Does it sound good at least?" Bård asked, as his brother shoved the headphones down onto his neck.

"I can’t even tell anymore. Should have just waited to finish it in the morning."

"Can I listen to it?" Bård asked. Vegard pulled the headphones from his neck and offered them out to his brother.

Bård crossed the room and stepped behind his brother's chair. He bent over, hovering his head beside Vegard's and slipped on the clunky headphones. Vegard stayed still, watching the green ridges of Bård's voice on the track. He felt the warmth of Vegard's body from proximity, and he could touch him if he moved his mouth a few centimeters to the left. He could kiss Vegard's cheek, or the crook of his neck, or even just put a hand on his shoulder—it's exactly the kind of thing Vegard would love. Bård felt no draw, no temptation to touch so tentatively. If Bård were to do anything, it would be to wrench his brother's chin upward and force his mouth down upon his, press until it almost hurt. There was something wrong with him. Vegard stifled a yawn, and Bård tried to focus his mind back on the melody.

It was just a little over a month since it started. They’d “hooked up”—as Bård referred to it—three times in that period. He liked the vagueness, the casual nature of the term. Calling it something more concrete, like “sex”, or god forbid something so intimate as “making love”, was an utterly repulsive concept. 

The struggle lay in negotiating the spill, the little marks of affection that lapped over the edges of their secret and dripped into moments of casual companionship. It didn't matter where they were, or who they were with; ever since he properly laid his hands on him, Vegard had a hard time keeping them off of Bård's skin. It was constant accidental brushing, scooting by him in a space too close so they would press together for split seconds. Bård made a pointed effort not to jump or to express his discomfort, but it was impossible when Vegard would do it more purposefully, like that morning when he grabbed Bård's waist from behind as he leaned over his desk. He had pulled away violently, and turned around to glare hostility at his brother. Vegard's arms held in position for a few moments, before they fell to his side as his eyes fell to the floor. He was so disappointed that Bård didn't - couldn't accept the spontaneous gestures.

"Can you stop it?" Bård asked his brother, the irritation shining so clear. Vegard swallowed before leaving the room with a tight frown and angered eyes. 

Bård had no trouble compartmentalizing the fevered hunger for his brother, hiding it away from the everyday. Vegard was the one who couldn't keep it together, who needed to learn how to put a lid on his emotions and stop acting so wounded.

But that's not really how things work. Bård knew he was the problem. He should want to touch him more, not less, after diving into the depths of physical contact. It wasn't without affect—each time Vegard's fingertips brushed any part of him, the area was burnt with scalding heat. It wouldn't die down for hours sometimes, his cells repeating and remembering the touch and screaming it back to his skin so he could not forget. Electric panic (or pleasure, he couldn't decide which it was) was not something he desired to feel in every unguarded moment of his day. Each of their three sessions held him over for days at a time, he felt he didn't even need to see Vegard—he was so full of him like a residue coating the inside of his lungs.

Bård handed back the headphones and they agreed the track was good enough. He walked over to the bedside and grabbed his phone off the nightstand as Vegard put away his laptop. His brother readied for bed and he checked last minute reminders about the taping the next day. He set his alarm for 8am when Vegard walked back from the bathroom in his boxers and a t-shirt. He walked to the other side of the bed and sat on the edge.    

"Are you nervous? For tomorrow?" Bård asked, gazing up from his phone. Vegard shrugged.

"It gets easier every time. You?"

"Yeah, I guess the same." He scratched his neck and yawned. Vegard swung his legs onto the bed and pulled the covers over him. He sat upright, leaving plenty of space on the mattress for another person. 

He didn't get Vegard, didn't understand why he was still handing him these invitations that he knew Bård would reject. Vegard probably wanted him to take off his jeans and settle into the bed, regardless that he was mad at him. Maybe it would make things better, calm the anxiety of his brother being angry by giving him this small thing. But he really didn't want to stay. He hated sleeping next to him. They had separate rooms growing up and he was never able to shut off his awareness of the body beside him and actually sleep when they attempted it in the past. If there was a promise of physicality, he would join him. But there wasn't time, they were tired, and it wasn't what was being offered. Vegard would undoubtedly get frustrated again when he said no. Bård thought he was entitled to his confusion. Their feelings were not common, and therefore did not have to adhere to the rules of common sense. 

"Are you going back to your room?" Vegard broke the silence, coughing into the back of his hand. 

"Yeah, I think so." Bård watched all remaining hope drain from his brother's eyes. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, I’m just going to sleep, so." He smoothed his hand over the comforter, leaning his weight to the center of the bed. 

He wished Vegard would be more forceful. In a way he loved the moments when he would reprimand him, pull his arm to stop him from doing something childish, tell him to shut up when he was talking over him. It was why he did those things. He wanted him to be less docile, less gentle, instead of backing off every time Bård rebuffed him. He wanted him to just take what he wanted. Vegard wasn’t like that. It was a good thing, but it wasn’t helpful. 

"Alright. Well." Vegard settled his head down onto the pillow, and Bård stepped back from the bedside.

"Okay, good night."

"Night."

He switched off the light when he reached the bottom of the staircase.

— 

Bård entered his room and didn’t bother to turn on the light. He took off his pants, and sunk into the mattress, pulling the covers up under his arms. He closed his eyes tight, willing sleep to overcome him. Mercifully, it came quick. 

He dreamt clearly that he was on a beach. The air was cold even though the sun shined and he scanned the shore, looking over the lapping waves that went on indefinitely. He turned around in a circle, noting brown-red cliffs that flanked him in a wide alcove. He couldn't see how to escape it without swimming into the sea and traveling around. He didn't want to get into the water. He hadn't come there alone though, he knew that, and stepped forward to find his companion.

The tide had risen around his ankles, and he splashed through the water, dragging his feet through the wet sand toward one end of the alcove. Before he reached the end, a hand fell on his shoulder and he turned, finding Vegard standing before him.

"I'm here," he said, smiling. Bård sighed in relief, and the hand on his shoulder melted a warmth straight through him until it spilled out through the bottom of his fingertips. It dripped like gold honey into the water at their feet.

"Where are we going?" Bård asked. He turned away from his brother to find a way out. "Do you want to leave?"

He turned around and realized he was kneeling in the water. It was up to his mid thigh and he was alone again. He whipped his head back and forth, looking for his brother.

"I'm here," he heard Vegard say. He still couldn't see him. But his hands had fallen into the water and he looked down through the clear pale blue and saw his brother's face. Bård was holding him under. Bubbles came to the surface as Vegard said "It's okay. It's okay." The sky was cloudy and the water had risen again to his waist.

Bård started to breathe heavily, shoving his brother's shoulders farther down into the sand. The water rose to chest height, the waves lapping higher and higher with each pull of the tide. "It's okay," Vegard said again, but he couldn't see him anymore because a fog rolled in, blanking out the entire shore.

The water reached his neck and his chest heaved when drops sprayed on his lips. He tilted his head back, keeping himself above water as long as he could. He thought he should let go and bob to the top, letting himself become buoyant and savor the air. His brother had stopped talking, and the grip that was on Vegard's skin now held something hard and cold.

"Vegard," he called one last time before the water closed over his head and he woke up.   

—  

He managed with some difficulty to climb the spiral staircase without any light and stood at the foot of Vegard's bed. His brother was still asleep, hadn't heard him come in at all. He didn't want to wake him but he did. His heart still pounded urgency and he grabbed for Vegard's foot over the blanket.

"Vegard," he spoke, shaking his brother's foot. He woke with a start, ripping his leg from Bård's grasp and sucking in a lungful of air. He sat up; Bård could see the faint outline of his frame in the darkness. 

"Bård?" Vegard called into the space before him.

"Yeah," he answered. His brother sighed and rubbed his eyes with a closed fist.

"What are you doing?" His voice changed its mild tone from alarm to annoyance.

"I don’t want to sleep in my room." Bård waited for his brother to say something or tell him to get out. He heard him breathing and the sound of his legs shifting under the covers.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Six," Bård replied. Vegard sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Bård's legs fidgeted, he couldn't stand there much longer. "Can I sleep in here?"

Bård counted the seconds until Vegard breathed out. "Yeah," he said, and moved over to one side of the bed. 

Bård slipped under the heavy down comforter and lay stiffly on his side. He faced his brother and stared through the darkness, focusing on the shaded image of his brother's face.

"I don’t want to stay in that room anymore. I think we should just share one, from now on." He was wide awake and the bluntness of his words seemed to rouse consciousness in Vegard as well.

"Okay," he spoke carefully.

"I think I’m in love with you," Bård rushed out. He wasn't sorry he said it, it needed to be said. He never imagined it would come out like that but then again he'd never imagined saying it. Or thinking it, feeling it. His brother was taken aback, pausing.

"Are you actually awake right now, Bård?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then you know what you’re saying to me?"

"Yes."

"I’m not sure if I’m awake." 

Bård couldn't see too well but he thought he could hear Vegard smiling. It was a king-sized bed and roomier than Bård remembered it being; he kicked his legs out but they still didn't connect with his brother's. He scooted his body in closer until he could feel Vegard's breath beating back on him. They lay in the dark, awake. Bård wanted to feel happier than he was. 

"I had a dream that I was drowning you. I kept holding you under the water, and I think maybe you even wanted me to. But I didn’t like it."

Vegard chuckled. "Thanks, I guess."

Bård tried to get a sense of where his brother's hands were on the bed. He had a hard time telling if they were by his sides or up in front of him, occupying the space between them. 

"I’m sorry," Bård whispered.

"It’s okay." 

"No it's not." He never wanted to hear his brother say those words again but he wouldn't stop unless Bård changed. He rose onto his elbows in the bed. "Can you sit up for a second?"

"I thought you wanted to sleep," Vegard murmured, voice muffled as he pressed his tired face into the pillow.

"Please."

Vegard sat up and Bård felt for his face in the dark. His palm connected clumsily with his jaw and he brushed his thumb over his skin—once, twice, then brought his lips against his brother's. Vegard exhaled on contact and pushed into him, placing his hand around Bård's neck. Bård burned all over like normal, and it seemed like his brother's wet mouth was the perfect cool to his charred insides. He lapped along his brother's lips, and Vegard responded, pulling Bård's upper body closer until he was half on top of him. Bård continued, following the path he had become familiar with. He could go further. He could shove his leg between Vegard's thighs and buck like every instinct inside him wanted to do. Vegard was still tired but he could tell he was happy, probably not thinking about anything other than the things happening to his mouth or the hands holding his face. Bård was a little more aware. He was simmering in his skin but he slowed himself, trailing kisses down Vegard's neck until he stopped, slumping against his brother's side. 

He listened to Vegard's heavy breathing and the thump of his own rapid pulse.

"Is that all?" Vegard asked. He turned onto his side and created a few inches of space by slipping his arm out from under Bård.

"For now." Bård rolled on his side. The morning light was getting brighter through the blinds and he could see more of his brother's expression. There was shy sadness lurking in the shadows on his face. He reached his hand out between them, and grabbed hold of Bård's thumb with his entire palm. He didn't look at Bård as he spoke.

"You can just tell me if that’s all you want. Sex, I mean."

"Vegard—"

"I’m okay with it. I’ll do whatever you want. It doesn't matter."

Bård found his eyes in the dimness and held his gaze. 

"That’s not all I want." Bård squeezed his hand around Vegard's and he smiled at the gesture. It wasn't natural for Bård, he only did it because he predicted it would elicit a positive reaction. He was right, but it was okay. The burn in his chest was dulling to something more like heated wax instead of the whole flame.

Sleep weighed on them both and Bård allowed himself to think about his brother beside him. He thought about him this time as something solid, unwavering, as part of the bed instead of an obstruction in it. As he drifted off, Vegard pulled Bård's body closer, slotting his back against his chest. Tentatively he snuck his arm around his waist, holding him tighter when Bård didn't object. 

"Is this okay?" Vegard whispered, his mouth brushing the shell of his brother's ear.

"Yes."

Vegard inhaled deep, sliding his hand further up Bård's chest before pecking the corner of his jaw. He scratched lightly over Bård's sternum, and neither noticed the remaining two hours slip past their consciousness to bring in the morning light.


End file.
